


Direction

by IllBeRightBack



Category: Marilyn Manson (Band), Nine Inch Nails (Band)
Genre: M/M, Multi, Toilet Boy Trent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-17 01:31:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13648623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IllBeRightBack/pseuds/IllBeRightBack
Summary: Yeah this is really bad but i love that toilet boy trent is a canonized tag now ♥️ anyways I want more Pogo fic on this god damned website so i had to do it myself. You know the drill. Toilet slave. Nothing new here, just trash. Shout out to all my toilet slave dudes on here.





	Direction

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah this is really bad but i love that toilet boy trent is a canonized tag now ♥️ anyways I want more Pogo fic on this god damned website so i had to do it myself. You know the drill. Toilet slave. Nothing new here, just trash. Shout out to all my toilet slave dudes on here.

"He's just into... things," Manson said, raising one eyebrow at his keyboardist.

"... Like what?" Pogo narrowed his eyes.

"Are you in or not?" Manson sighed exhaustively.

"Is it gonna humiliate him?" Pogo asked a little deviously with a giggle.

The other man just smirked, "Of course."

"Then I'm in," Pogo shrugged, taking a sip from his beer.

Just then, Trent entered the room, fuming.

"Chris can fuck off," he almost snarled, looking for the whiskey he'd left on the table.

"Awww what's wrong now?" Manson mocked as he and Pogo dramatically pouted their bottom lips at him.

"Oh, fuck off," Trent spat, taking a very long drink and storming out again.

"... Doesn't really seem like he's in the mood," Pogo breathed a laugh.

"Oh he will be... Just gotta get him into the right headspace first," Manson said, picking at his chipping black nail polish.

"And how do we do that??" Pogo asked, always the curious one.

"You'll see tonight," Manson laughed a little, "My room. Its 504. Midnight."

Pogo nodded and Manson exited the room to find Trent, probably punching a wall somewhere. It always amazed him that someone so small cpuld be that filled with rage, but that was a thought he kept to himself incase Trent wasn't afraid to knock some of his teeth out right now.

Sure enough, Trent was in the Nine Inch Nails dressing room, sulking.

"Relax," Manson said simply, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Piss off," Trent growled.

"C'mon baby, what'd he do?" Manson asked, crowding Trent against the wall now. He had to calm him down first, of course, before he could wrestle him into submission.

"He's an incompetent cocksucker, that's what he did... they all are," Trent said, a little calmer at feeling Manson's warm body against his.

"You need to de-stress," Manson suggested, brushing some of Trent's dark hair out of his eyes.

"Yeah, its gonna take a-fucking-lot to make that happen," the smaller man huffed.

"Good thing I have some help then," Manson grinned deviously, pressing their bodies closer.

"What?" Trent asked softly.

"Pogo so kindly volunteered to help you... de-stress. With me." Manson said softly.

"Brian you motherFUCKER, YOU TOLD HIM??" Trent shrieked in his face.

"Aww come on!" The taller man said cheerfully, "it's Pogo! You can trust him, you know he's a fucking weirdo! C'mon, he'll totally be into it... and it'll make you feel better," Manson saod, latching himself like a leech onto Trent's neck now.

"Nothing's a secret with you," Trent frowned.

"Your fault for trusting me."

\---------------------

Manson was quickly filling Pogo in on the situation as they walked to the hotel room he and Trent were sharing.

"I knew he was a freaky little fuck," Pogo snorted and laughed.

"With how much you love fucking with people, we should've asked you to do this sooner," Manson sighed, unlocking the hotel door with his card.

The two men stepped inside and Pogo cpuld already hear muffled cries, assuming it was a gag.

He and Trent had fucked around before (on Manson's watch before, because he was territorisl like that) but it never went as deep as humiliating the poor frontman. He wished he'd had this opportunity sooner.

Manson pushed the bathroom door open and the sight of Trent handcuffed to the toilet, ring-gag in mouth made the keyboardist lose his mind.

"Christ," he giggled manically.

"Isn't he perfect?" Manson teased.

Pogo walked closer, inspecting the scantily-clad man chained to the plumbing.

"Should be like this all the time," he commented, running a hand over Trent's back.

He was stripped completely except for his boxers.

Pogo grabbed him by the chin and turned him up towards his face.

Trent made a muffled gurgling sound and inhaled deeply.

"You're so much better when you can't fucking talk," Pogo chuckled, eyes wide and enthusiastic to get started.

"Kinda wish he was facing me though," he said, turning back to Manson.

Manson smiled from the doorway and made his way over to the pair, handcuff keys in hand.

He uncuffed Trent, but when the smaller man tried to stand he kicked him softly in the ribs.

"Sluts can stand when they're good," Manson said gently, stroking Trent's hair. Trent closed his eyes and nodded.

"You guys are fucked," Pogo breathed a laugh again, but despite his words, moved closer to the kneeling man, "Not so tough now, huh?" He teased, leaning down closer to Trent's face.

He wasn't used to seeing Trent NOT be a fucking bossy control freak. It was a much appreciated change of scenery.

Manson gripped Trent's hair tightly and wrenched his head back, exposing his bare chest to the other man in front of him.

"After you," He sighed to Pogo.

Pogo giggled, unzipping his leather pants and pulling himself out.

Trent squirmed in anticipation.

"Behave for our guest," Manson said through gritted teeth, pulling Trent's hair harder.

Trent winced at his grip and let out another obstructed groan.

"As you were," he sighed, looking back at Pogo.

Trent felt the hot stream of piss hitting his chest and he let out a satisfied grunt. He squirmed harder, feeling the liquid run down his body, wetting his underwear and feeling it over his clothed cock.

The stream eventually stopped and Trent opened his eyes again, making an indignant little sound.

"That's all I got, baby," Pogo said, stroking Trent's cheek gently.

"More?" Manson asked from the behind him.

Trent nodded vigorously, desperately, making more of those sweet noises from behind the metal ring in his mouth.

"My turn then," he said, and he an Pogo traded spots, "Hold his head down."

Pogo pushed Trent's head forward until he was forced to look at the ground.

"Gotta be put in your place sometimes," Manson sighed as Trent felt another thick warm stream hit his body, this time wetting his hair and running down his face.

Trent was shuddering at the feeling of everything. It was more satisfying the more people used him it seemed.

As Manson felt his stream of piss begin to falter, he quickly said "Pull his head up."

Pogo did so, wrenching it up so that piss shot directly into his open mouth.

He was helpless to squirm, there was no way in hell he could shut his lips with that damned ring in his mouth.

He coughed a little as Manson finished and Pogo let him fall to his hands and knees on the floor.

"That's a good boy," Manson said, patting Trent on the top of the head and wiping his hand on his pants.

Trent looked up at him with pleading eyes as he pulled Pogo out of the bathroom with him.

"Clean up and maybe you can join us," Manson smirked, slamming the bathroom door in his face.

Trent hastily turned the shower on and took the gag out if his mouth, anxious not to miss out.


End file.
